


no, nor woman neither

by consumptive_sphinx



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexuality, F/M, Gen, M/M, Sex Repulsion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 05:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10869711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumptive_sphinx/pseuds/consumptive_sphinx
Summary: Tom Riley receives command of a Celestial dragon, and William Laurence receives everything he has ever wanted.





	no, nor woman neither

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [delights not me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231914) by [consumptive_sphinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumptive_sphinx/pseuds/consumptive_sphinx). 



William Laurence marries Edith Galman in October of the year five, to the surprise of precisely nobody. The two had been courting since the age of nine; “Really,” Lord Allendale says of it later, in a rare display of approval of his son’s choices, “there was no other way that it could have gone.” 

The happy couple doesn't have a honeymoon; the Reliant leaves port in a week, and Laurence would prefer to spend that week at home with Edith. Everyone who sees the two of them during that week agrees that they are perfect for one another: they speak as if they have been married half their lives, move comfortably in one another’s spaces. 

She kisses him goodbye, before the Reliant sets sail. Laurence kisses her back and makes eye contact as they are leaving and breathes a sigh of relief once they are on the open sea. 

From the wedding night until they are out of harbour, Laurence's skin has not stopped crawling. 

 

_ Jonathan Carver, to everybody's relief, was not assigned to the dragonet.  _

_ “Still,” Laurence says to Riley in private, “you would have made a fine navy captain.” He’ll make a fine dragon captain, Laurence is sure, but he suspects that Riley is rather less concerned with his prospects as an aviator. He is well aware of which statement would reassure him more, if he were in Riley’s place.  _

_ Riley smiles, and it does not look scripted. “I’m glad to hear you say so,” he says. “And — I hope we see one another again.” _

 

Laurence wishes, more fiercely than he is entirely comfortable with, that Riley were here. They could not have spoken of it, of course; even between friends, some things are simply not done — but they could at least have spoken around it, and perhaps Laurence would not feel quite so alone. 

It is not that his crew is not adequate — they are as skilled as they have ever been — it is only that Laurence is keenly aware of how little he can say to them, and how much he wishes to say to someone. Normally, any matter this personal would be reserved for his wife, but there is the crux of the problem: There is something deeply broken in him, and Laurence knows, and Edith cannot find out. 

There is a blockade at Cadiz and a battle at Trafalgar. None of the Reliant’s crew is killed, or even severely injured. Riley and his dragon — no, and  _ Temeraire _ — are listed in the papers as heroes, something to do with Temeraire’s roar. The Reliant goes into drydock for repairs, and the men are given shore leave; Laurence, of course, goes home to Edith. 

He says nothing of it, to her or to anybody. What could he say? “I knew I was broken before I married you, and I did not tell you then” — it is not an option. There is nothing that he can do but remain silent, and claim he has a headache in the evenings, and hope that the Reliant is ready to leave port again soon. 

 

_ The wedding was simple, or as simple as it could have been, given the rank and wealth of both their families.  _

_ The wedding night, however, is anything but.  _

_ Admittedly, Laurence has no experience whatsoever with physical intimacy — has never wanted any — but he knows that his shipmates enjoy the experience enough to risk lives and marriages over it, and he is reasonably certain that you aren’t supposed to feel frightened and sick for the duration of the event and an hour afterwards. He is reasonably certain that it isn’t supposed to feel like his own skin is constricting over him until he cannot breathe. He is reasonably certain that it isn’t supposed to feel like a violation.  _

_ The second night of his and Edith’s marriage, Laurence claims that he doesn’t feel well. He continues to say it, every night, and it is only half a lie.  _

_ This is what the rest of his life is going to look like, he thinks, and he prays that Edith never wants a child.  _

 

Laurence is assigned to a dragon-transport by the name of the Allegiance, carrying one Celestial dragon to China, and his captain as well. 

There is no love lost between the Aerial Corps and the Navy, but it is good to see Riley again, even if Laurence finds himself largely ignored in favour of Riley’s own crew. He cannot say that this comes as a surprise, but he is not overly happy with the reality of it. 

Even so, it isn’t as if Laurence is starved for company. There is no love lost between the Aerial Corps and the Navy, but he thinks that he could become quite fond of Lieutenant John Granby — the man is open in a manner that is rare in the Navy and quick-witted in a way that reminds Laurence almost of Edith, before — before. 

Laurence invites him to dinner in the Captain’s quarters one night, and it comes as a surprise when Granby kisses him. It should not; aviators possess a certain freedom that sailors simply do not, and Granby has been watching Laurence closely for a week, and yet it does. 

Granby’s lips are chapped but soft, and his hand is firm on the small of Laurence’s back. Laurence reaches up to tangle his fingers in Granby’s hair and Granby moans, low and long, and runs his hands down to Laurence’s arse —

_ — too much too much too much too much TOO MUCH — _

“Are you alright?” Granby says. His hands are gone. Laurence doesn’t know where. He shakes his head. “Alright,” Granby says, “Alright, Laurence, it’s alright, you can stop —”

“I’m sorry,” Laurence says, apologizing like it’s muscle memory. “It’s just —” and it isn’t  _ just _ anything, but he cannot say that to John Granby any more than he can say it to his wife. “I’m sorry.” 

Granby doesn’t leave. He doesn’t touch him, but he doesn’t leave. 

Laurence has never been more grateful. 


End file.
